My Turning Page
by The Pris
Summary: Definite Spoilers. Six reunions that the finale didn't give us.


**Author**: The Pris

**Rating: **T/PG-13

**Fandom: **Once Upon a Time

**Title:** My Turning Page

**Summary: ** Six reunions that the finale didn't give us.

**AN: **This story is dedicated to the forever amazing and completely awesome **Nikstlitslepmur**, whom I love, even though her cliff hangers are threatening to drive me insane. But, truthfully, I probably would have _never _gotten around to posting a story in this fandom if it hadn't been for her asking me in every message (_seriously_) where my stories were.

**Disclaimer: **"When you wish upon a star the dream that you wish will come true…" it's all a lie. I can in _no way _take any credit for the amazing show that ABC has given to us, no matter how much I wish that I could, and no amount of wishing on a star will bring back Graham. Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz are the ones that created the show and came up with the amazing twists on the classic _tales as old as time _that we have all grown up with and all love. I'm just borrowing their characters.

* * *

_I've waited a hundred years _

_But I'd wait a million more, for **you**._

His Grace shouts her goodbyes and skips out of the house.

She leaves the house at the same time every day and rides her bike to school where she's shut away in a room, out of his sight, until she is dismissed with the other children at recess for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes which he uses to his advantage, watching her giggle and play from a distance until she's ushered inside once more, and then he follows her home at the end of the day to ensure that she makes it there safely. All from a distance.

Because even though she's his Grace, in _this _world she isn't his daughter, and in some ways she's not his Grace at all. He's spent every day since the saviour rolled into town – with the exception of the couple of weeks preceding his failed attempt at getting Emma to believe, but that's another story – watching her and it makes his heart ache. She's not his daughter. His Grace hates plums and always wears a necklace that once belonged to her mother, but _Paige _eats a plum during every recess and instead of her mother's necklace she wears a bulky, yellow thing that's made to look like a string of pearls.

He hates the changes but in some ways he's thankful for them, because somehow he thinks it would be even more painful if they didn't exist. Without those differences she wouldn't be Paige, she would be his Grace, but she still wouldn't know who _he _was. He's no one to her. She doesn't remember him or their life together.

But he remembers.

He remembers it all. He remembers all the stories he told her before bed, he remembers their games in the forest, he remembers how she loathed plums, and he remembers how much she treasured her mother's necklace. He remembers it all and that's _his _curse.

And he remembers the first time he saw her in this world.

He remembers waking up in a mansion that he could not leave – which made it just as much as a curse as Wonderland had been to him – and he remembers watching the whole town through his telescope, curious as to what had happened and why he was no longer trapped in the room he filled with thousands of hats. And he remembers seeing his daughter playing outside with their old neighbours, oblivious to the fact that her father was so close, and oblivious to the fact that she was living with the wrong family. With the wrong _father_.

He almost convinced himself she wasn't his Grace.

But then a smile lit up her face and he saw it.

Whenever she grins, Grace looks like him. Her eyes and long hair makes her resemble her mother, but when she smiles and laughs, there is no denying that he is her father.

And then there was no denying that she's Grace. _His _Grace.

Jefferson shakes his head and leans against the tree, watching her enter the school. Always watching.

Then pain pricks away at his heart while animosity bubbles beneath the surface, and it's all aimed at Regina. He hates Regina. He hates her for taking him away from his daughter in the first place, he hates her for allowing him to remember who he truly is and for torturing him for 28 years by having his daughter within sight but out of reach, and he hates her for breaking another deal.

And he hates that she was right when she claimed that he didn't have it in him to strike against her.

So he had, in a roundabout way, gone to someone who would.

One of the few that wasn't afraid of Regina.

Rumpelstiltskin.

He chuckles despite everything.

He's spent a lot of time watching, just watching, and had seen the approaching storm.

He probably saw it before everyone else, including Regina, had.

It shocked him when he learned that the pawnbroker who walked with a limp had been far more dangerous in their world, that he had been someone that was twice as powerful and ten times as dangerous as the Evil Queen. But he _had_ figured it out. He figured out that Mr. Gold had once been known as Rumpelstiltskin.

But what had surprised him even more was the fact that Regina _knew _that the imp knew who he was, but yet she did nothing, despite the power he once possessed, when she had killed the Huntsman. She allowed one to live while she struck down the powerless one, the one that would never be able to threaten her hold on the town, and then he had understood.

Rumpelstiltskin was somehow working with the Queen – though part of him believed that the death of the Huntsman had been a result of the Queen's blind rage and her want to cause Emma pain – and he had paid a little more attention after that.

And in time he had discovered the dark secret hidden in the psych ward of the hospital, the secret that Regina _never _wanted Rumpelstiltskin to know. Not until it suited her and her goals.

But it wasn't until Jefferson saw their alliance crumble and Regina screwed _him _over again that he put that knowledge to use. Jefferson hates Regina and because of that he saw that the imp had a similar hatred bubbling beneath the surface. And like his own hatred, it's aimed at the Evil Queen, and Jefferson knows that several hours ago he released the key to having that hatred, that storm, breach the surface.

Rumpelstiltskin against the Evil Queen.

It's a storm that's been a long time coming.

And he knows that he's only added to it by releasing Belle.

Rumpelstiltskin hates Regina – probably just as much as he does – and that hatred would only increase when he saw his beloved.

When he learns that she was never dead, that Regina lied.

Because Regina _always _lies.

And hours have passed since he sent Belle to find Rumpelstiltskin. He released her in the late hours of the night and it was now the start of a new day. Their reunion has probably already taken place and, even though Belle has no idea who she is or that the_ beast _he sent her to is her true love, Jefferson is still jealous.

But he knows he shouldn't be. He knows it could have been worse. He knows that he should be thankful that his daughter was brought to this world and given a good life where she's happy, unlike those that the Evil Queen hated. Regina was exceptionally cruel to them.

His mind briefly flickers to Mary Margaret – or rather, Snow White – who is the root of the hatred that led to Regina enacting her wretched curse and then his mind immediately wanders to the blonde who would do anything for Mary Margaret. For Snow White.

Emma.

Emma Swan: the _daughter_ of Snow White and her beloved Charming, the saviour, and the one who was now working with the very creature who had cursed them all and stole the happy endings so she could save _her _son.

His heart aches for her and he regrets helping Regina.

He never should have helped her retrieve that poisoned apple.

He knows that all magic comes with a price and he hates himself.

Henry shouldn't be the one to pay that price.

Emma shouldn't have to pay the price.

Regina is the one who needs to pay the price for all she's done. She's done nothing but lie and manipulate, ripping him away from his beloved Grace, killing countless _good _people because of a quest for vengeance, and she's ripped everyone away from their happy endings.

Even in Storybrooke she continues to destroy every flicker of joy.

Part of him wonders what happened to create such hatred within the cold heart that resides in Regina's chest.

He's never managed to figure out _why _she had grown to hate her kind-hearted stepdaughter.

But another part of him could care less, his heart possessing no hint of sympathy for Regina.

He doubts that whatever Snow White did to Regina had truly been so heinous that it deserves _this_.

A bell sounds and it draws Jefferson from his thoughts as his eyes flicker to the school, to the furthest classroom to the east: _Grace's _classroom.

He remains where he's stood and he's not really sure how much time passes before he feels it. He's not sure what it is that he feels and, as he looks around, he notes that nothing's out of place. Nothing has changed but everything seems different. It's like a haze was lifted from the small hamlet.

His eyes continue to scan the surrounding area as he tries to place what's different. He pushes himself away from the tree and prepares to leave the grounds because he knows that it'll be several hours before he can _see _his daughter again. He's fully prepared to walk amongst the cursed residents unnoticed, watching them without being seen by them, but he doesn't get the chance.

Before he takes a single step they all seem to wander out into the open at once, walking out into the streets with identical looks of confusion engraving their faces, and Jefferson frowns.

There are some people he recognizes from his world and some he's only seen in this one through the lenses of his telescope, but all of their faces blur together as they frantically move about. Some are shouting out names, others sobbing and pulling loved ones into hugs, but Jefferson's still confused.

A thought crosses his mind but he pushes it away.

It's nothing more than a distant dream, a vain hope.

But then all of the students rush out of the school, flooding out onto the streets with everyone else and their faces are masks of confusion, terror, and pure joy.

They all rush out of the school as if there had been some sort of drill, but the blaring of a bell is absent.

Jefferson straightens his back and his eyes frantically seek out his Grace and the worry of a true father assaults him, and it doesn't dull when he sees her. It increases. Just like everyone else, confusion and alarm are etched into her pretty features and it _kills _him. He yearns to be able to run to her, to ask her what's wrong, but this world is suspicious of strangers walking up to children and that's what he is to her.

He's nothing more than a mere stranger, someone she would pass without noticing.

But the yearning in his heart persists, just as it's done for 28 years.

And, just like every day for the past 28 years, he watches her. Looking over her and ready to swoop in to protect her if she finds herself in danger in spite of the fact that he's no one to her, but then his daughter whirls around on her heel and his breath escapes his lungs in a silent gasp.

Grace spins on her heel and her eyes – eyes that are _so _much like her mother's – lock onto the trees that border the school yard, frantically searching. She's staring in his direction and her eyes are sweeping over every surface, every shadow, and he knows that she's looking for someone. It's like she knows that whatever it was, was there, just like she was always able to find him when they played their games in the Enchanted Forest.

She's searching for something or someone, and for a moment he allows himself to think that they're back in their world, that they're playing Hide and Seek and she's looking for him. He imagines her laugh and the flash of relief that fills her eyes when she finds him before she runs towards him, launching herself into his arms and calling him her Papa.

He forces himself to push that fantasy aside but even when he does, his heart stops.

He's spent so much time watching her that he doesn't know how he didn't see it immediately, but something about her is different, and she seems more like his Grace than she has in all the time he's been watching Paige. His breath catches and his heart pounds in his chest for reasons he doesn't understand.

He doesn't dare let himself believe that it's really her, yet hope flutters in his heart.

But her eyes widen when she sees him, still by the tree, and he's momentarily thrown off balance.

It's Grace. Not Paige, the ghost of his daughter, it's _his _Grace.

She takes off running towards him before his mind processes what it all means – the confusion, his daughter _remembering _who he is – but he doesn't care. He too breaks out into a run and doesn't pause until she's in front of him, breathing hard and staring.

She stares at him for a long moment, and he hears nothing, only the pounding of his heart.

And then she's say the one word that makes his heart flutter with unbelievable joy. "Papa," she breathes out as she stares up at him, her eyes full of hope and love and she looks as if she might cry because her heart is so full.

He nods because he doesn't trust himself to speak, because he's not sure he can – and because he's still not sure what's happening or why she remembers him, though he thinks it has something to do with Emma – and she flings herself into his arms without hesitation.

The action surprises him, though it's far from unwelcome, and he falls to his knees and tightens his hold on her.

"You came back, Papa." His Grace mumbles into his neck as she holds him tightly, refusing to let go, but he hears the relief in her voice. He came back, just as he had promised he would.

"_Just promise me you'll come back," _she had pleaded with him the last time they had seen each other in their world,_ "You __**have**__ to promise."_

"_Of course."_

"Of course I did, baby." He responds finally, pulling back slightly to look at her face, cupping her cheeks, "though I'm afraid I missed our tea party."

Her laughter fills the air and she flings herself into his arms once more and, as he kisses the top of her head, she whispers that she'll forgive him this one time as long as he promises that he won't ever leave her again, and he vows that he never will.

Jefferson knows that that's impossible, that he can't be by her side every waking moment, but his words soothe his daughter. His Grace.

But then she pulls back from him, her hands resting on his shoulders as her face crumples up in confusion. "But where were you, Papa?" Curiosity laces her tone and he's happy to see that she's just as nosey and inquisitive as ever, "you were gone for months and months and months and you never came back."

He expected this question.

He's fantasized about this moment a lot over the past three decades and he's known that she would ask him this question, but he's doesn't know how much he should tell Grace. He knows her well enough to know that she's figured out that the Evil Queen was somehow involved in his disappearance, but he doesn't know how much she really knows. He doesn't know if she truly knows how long it's been.

And he doesn't want to frighten her with stories about him making hat after hat and hoping that the _next _one would bring him back to her, even though he knows that she'll later pester him until he does tell her, and he doesn't know how to explain how he was locked inside a house for 28 years, cursed to watch her love another father. He doesn't know what to tell her at all.

But then the perfect explanation pops into his head and he grins at her as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, baby," and he knows that he'll never say those words enough to make up for how long they were apart, "but I had to wait months and months and _months _for a rather stubborn princess to believe in magic."

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops, unable to believe that someone doesn't believe in magic, let alone a _princess__._

He chuckles at her expression because, as he told Emma, that's the real difference between this world and theirs.

But as his daughter demands to know how someone could not believe in magic, clearly outraged, his mind finally catches up with everything that's happened and he understands. He understands the confusion and he understands why everyone is remembering who they really are.

It's all because Emma gave this world the one thing it really needed, if only for a moment. Emma finally believed in the curse and somehow managed to use magic, and as a result, his darling daughter and everyone else were freed from the curse.

So he pulls his daughter into his arms one more time, her words ceasing as all of the air in her lungs escaped in a huff, and he prays that giving everyone back their identities and happy ending didn't cost Emma hers, that it didn't cost her Henry.

Yet he's still thankful to her as he murmurs: "Thank you, Emma."

"Who's _Emma_? Is she the stubborn princess?"

But he doesn't answer her questions.

Instead, he hugs his daughter tighter until she cries out in protest.

**-x-**

"_As long as I'm alive, you will never go back to that life." He vows before she leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, smiles lighting up both their faces as he pulls away and places a hand on her swollen stomach. "Now, how's our little Alexandra?"_

"_Alexandra?" Their daughter's name falls from her lips as a question._

"_Did I not mention I had picked out a name?" He asks playfully, looking at her in mock horror._

"_A __**name**__? That's more like a prison sentence!"_

"_Well I like it."_

_Suddenly everything shifts and the happiness bleeds from the moment._

_All she feels is a crippling pain, her heart shattering in her chest as she searches for him, screaming out his name._

_He's gone._

_She's lost him. _

_He's nowhere to be found, her true love, and without him her happy ending is – _

Ashley shoots up in bed as the dream – or rather, nightmare – fades from her mind and she reaches out to hold him but he's not there. Panic immediately grips onto her heart and her breathing becomes more frantic before she realizes that it was all a dream. She hasn't lost him. Sean pulled a double shift last night and that's why his side of the bed is cold. She hasn't lost him at all.

She exhales slowly and her eyes seek out the alarm clock that rests on the night-stand, and the blinking red numbers confirm her thoughts. It's only ten to eight in the morning and Sean's not due home for another twenty minutes so, since she has nowhere to be until noon when her shift starts at Granny's, she allows herself to fall back onto the bed and waits for her heart to calm down.

She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to banish the haunting images from her mind, willing them away as she covers her face with her hands before they dive into her blonde locks, but she knows it's useless. There's no way she'll ever be able to get those images out of her mind.

She's been having that nightmare for months now, ever since her daughter was born and she reunited with Sean.

She hasn't told him about the nightmares, she hasn't told anyone besides Granny, and that hadn't been intentional. It was shortly after she started working again and she had blurted it all out one day when the two of them had been talking. Granny had told her to let it all out and, when she had finished, Granny had merely patted her hand sympathetically before telling her that it was just as result of having Sean back in her life.

She was imagining what the pregnancy would have been like if he had been by her side and the terror, the heartache, that she feels at the end is a result of the fears that she has. The fear that he'll come to regret coming back to her and that he'll just leave her – them, her and their daughter – again.

But Ashley knows that he won't.

Sean loves Alexandra, he loves _her_, and they're getting married.

But she's accepted Granny's explanation because it's really the only one that she has, even though it does nothing to explain why her dream is filled with castles and balls, princes and princesses, and an evil creature with beady eyes.

She shivers at the memory of those eyes, despite the warmth that fills the room, and remains there until the baby monitor cracks and the sound of her daughter's happy coos breaks through her sleep-fogged mind. Alexandra's happy now but it's only a matter of time before she starts fussing.

She rolls out of the bed and sits there, relishing in the silence before she moves about the small bedroom, pausing at the mirror as she takes in the person looking back at her. She looks happy and she knows that it's because she _is _happy.

Ashley has everything she's ever wanted. She's never cared for money or status or riches – she's nothing like her stepsisters and their wretched mother – and she's perfectly content with the life that she shares with her daughter and Sean. All she's ever wanted was a family, a _real _family, and she has that now.

Even when she sees the vile woman her father married after the death of her mother, her stepmother's taunts don't bother her. Ashley just shrugs because what the woman says _is _true, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that, even with what she earns from working at Granny's and Sean working double shifts nearly every night, they can barely afford the two-bedroom house that they rent. Just like it doesn't matter that it's a small house with two bedrooms that can barely fit a double bed, a bathroom, a small living room, and a kitchen with a tiny breakfast nook.

Ashley could care less.

They're all together.

She likes the feeling of the three of them being together. She and Sean had only been separated several months really, but looking back on it, it feels like years had passed between him leaving upon finding out about her pregnancy and him showing up at the hospital. Years that had been filled with sorrow and emptiness and _guilt_, but that's behind them now.

The baby monitor crackles again, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Ashley shakes her head and grabs her grey bathrobe, throwing it on as she makes her way to the room that's been set up as a nursery and pauses when she reaches the door. Alexandra is still cooing happily and she smiles softly at the sight of Sean holding their daughter in his arms.

Alexandra is her daddy's baby girl – his little princess, as he calls her – and it makes Ashley's heart swell.

She hates the thought that he could have missed this.

Especially as she watches him hold their daughter in one arm, Alexandra pressed up to his shoulder before mumbling _and she rushed off to the ball, anxious to meet her prince._

Sean always soothes their daughter with fairy tales and Ashley smiles because it's adorable.

He tells their daughter all of the classics, telling her stories about the various princes and princesses, and he tells their daughter that someday she'll meet her own prince that will sweep her off her feet because she's his little princess and he'll accept nothing less than a charming, kind-hearted prince.

But then he pauses and grins at her, saying that he just wants her to find someone that'll love her as much as he loves her mother, and Ashley feels her heart swell whenever she hears that because she knows that his words speak the truth. Sean loves her and it doesn't matter that he wasn't there for her pregnancy, it doesn't matter that they only see each other a few hours a day, and it doesn't matter that they've barely started to plan their wedding. They're together and _that's _all that matters.

"And her evil stepmother tried to stop her, to steal her happy ending so that one of her obnoxious daughters could have it instead, but Ella was stronger than even she thought possible and she…" Sean's voice drones on and Ashley shakes her head when she finally clues in to what story he's telling their daughter.

_Cinderella_.

Sean insists that it is Alexandra's favourite story and that it's fitting because the shoes that he brought to the hospital remind him of Cinderella's glass slippers.

"… The glass slippers were a perfect fit and Ella once again found her prince, true love prevailing despite her wicked stepmother's plans, and the two of them were married. Princes and princesses from every kingdom came to celebrate their love and fireworks lit up the sky to show all those watching from afar that something wonderful was happening at the palace, and you know what? Ella and her prince lived happily ever after."

"Ella found her prince? I thought the princes were supposed to find their princesses, not the other way around."

Sean turns around, Alexandra still in his arms, and a tired smile crosses his face upon seeing his fiancée standing before him with a teasing grin on her face. "I thought you were still asleep," he confesses as he walks up to her and presses a soft kiss to her lips before arching an eyebrow at her, "and you can't expect them to do all the finding – that's just unfair, and probably exhausting."

Ashley rolls her eyes fondly as she holds her hand out to Alexandra, grinning when their daughter grips a hold of her finger. "What do you think, Alex? Should they take turns finding each other, or is that just the princes' being lazy?" She teases and a triumphant grin etches into her face when her daughter favours her with a gummy smile.

Sean sends her a mock glare before rearranging the baby in his arms, frowning at her in disapproval. "I thought you were on daddy's side, Princess!"

"Men," his fiancée scoffs playfully, "you know nothing of children."

Sean's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Oh, really?"

Ashley nods as she reaches out and moves their daughter to her arms, winking at Sean as she turns to leave the room, "Mhmm. Alex may be daddy's little princess, but at the end of the day, she _knows _that her mother always know best because I'm always right."

Sean smiles and follows them out of the room. "You're trying to sway her to your side," he says.

Ashley tries to keep her expression serious, but she knows Sean catches her smile.

This playful banter between them is a daily thing and it's familiar, and she often finds herself wondering if this is how it was between them before she found out she was pregnant. Everything prior to her pregnancy is a haze to her. She remembers bits and pieces: she remembers Sean leaving her; she remembers the helplessness and the fear she felt, and she remembers that she's always loved Sean, but that's it.

And she doesn't find it odd that she doesn't remember. She figures that she repressed those memories during her pregnancy, not wanting to remember how much they were in love before Sean walked out on her and Alexandra, and it doesn't really matter any more. They're together again, they're a family, and they're making new memories that are filled with banter and love, so much love, and that's enough for her. All she needs to know is that she loves Sean, and that he loves her.

"Sean, you wanna get her some cereal while I cook us some breakfast?" Ashley asks as she deposits their daughter in her high chair before she moves over the cupboard, grabbing the pancake mix before retrieving a mixing bowl. They're nowhere near as good as the pancakes that are made from scratch but they're cheaper and all you have to do is add water to the mix and, when you have a baby, the quicker you can do something, the better.

Sean nods before he removes a pink bowl from the drying tray – a pink bowl with a picture of the Disney Princesses on it – and fills it with cereal before he plops down in a chair beside his daughter and places the bowl in front of Alexandra. "You want some cereal, do ya, Princess? Daddy might be following in your footsteps since Momma is attempting to cook – eating her pancakes might be tempting fate."

He hears Ashley snort in disagreement, and he grins in response.

Truthfully, he knows that Ashley can cook.

Her stepmother used to make her cook all the meals, as well as clean the entire house every day. Top to bottom. Even when she was pregnant.

It's a fact that had his blood boiling when he first learned of it, and it's one of the many reasons that he made sure all of Ashley's things were moved out of that woman's house when Ashley and Alexandra were discharged from the hospital after their daughter's birth. He hadn't wanted either of them near that house.

It's why he went straight to Granny's after visiting them at the hospital and, in spite of the fact that Ruby looked ready to kill him on sight, her grandmother promised to set up a room for the family of three until they managed to find a place. Granny had been thrilled that Sean was doing the right thing and fighting for what he wanted instead of listening to his father.

"Keep dissing my cooking all you want, just know that I don't _have _to share." Ashley pipes up from where she's stood in front of the stove, pouring the first of the pancakes into the frying pan.

Sean turns to Ashley. "Technically everything is 50/50 when you're married so half of them are mine, anyway." He points out, his smile wide.

She turns to face him, an eyebrow arched, a smug smirk on her face. "We're not married yet."

He frowns upon hearing her words and he can't help but feel like something's off. Part of him thinks that it's because the two of them probably should have made the time to get married, but he knows that's not it.

It's something else.

Because hearing her say they're not married just sounds _wrong_.

He opens his mouth to say something but no words leave his lips as a pulse of _something _jolts through him and he knows Ashley feels it too because he hears her gasp and she drops something in shock, and then _everything _feels wrong.

Sean opens his mouth to say something – but he's _not _Sean, is he? – but there's too many thoughts fighting for control in his mind. There's too many memories, memories from two different lives, and they're all colliding with each other and blurring together as if someone had taken all of his memories and thrown them in a blender.

He sees Ashley sitting before him, heartbroken, and he rushes to reassure her of their love. _"Magic may have brought us together, but it didn't create this love."_

He blinks uncomprehendingly. Magic?

And then he sees them at the hospital. _"I am so sorry. I never should've left you."_

He squeezes his eyes shut, as the memories continue to assault him.

"_Sean, I'm pregnant."_

"_I'm pregnant."_

He shakes his head at the memories – two different memories of the same woman saying those two words to him – and he struggles to place which one is the true one and which one is the fake.

In both, Ashley looks terrified as she says it, but her name isn't Ashley just like his isn't Sean.

Her name is Ella.

Ella.

_His_ Ella.

And that's all it takes for his true memories to take over, to push back the false ones that have smothered them for 28 years, and suddenly everything makes sense.

"_I'm pregnant."_

"_Ella, that's wonderful! … Why are you upset? This is what we wanted."_

"_There's something else…"_

He inhales sharply and his eyes fly open and his gaze locks onto the blonde woman standing before him, her back to him as the memories of their life together rush back to him. He remembers the ball where they met. He remembers their wedding. He remembers finding out she's pregnant. He remembers her deal with Rumpelstiltskin, and he remembers that it doesn't matter because _magic may have brought us together, but it didn't create this love_.

"Ella," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper.

He remembers the dread, finding out that Rumpelstiltskin wants their baby. He remembers rushing to his friends' summer palace, seeking help from Snow and James. He remembers the regret from burdening them with his troubles since they have enough of their own. He remembers the prison that'll hold the imp that took advantage of his wife's desperation. He remembers the second deal. He remembers their victory, remembers that vile thing being locked up. He remembers Ella's pains. He remembers the well. And he remembers the darkness that followed.

And just like that, just as quickly as they returned, the memories dull and his head stops pounding but nothing can stop the pounding of his heart as he stares at his wife – at his Ella. Her back is still turned to him, but he sees her shaking her head and he knows that her memories are returning to her as well.

The moments tick by and the kitchen is quiet.

Finally he's had enough and he climbs to his feet and walks towards his wife. "Ella?" He chokes out, tears welling up in his eyes as he reaches out to touch her shoulder, afraid that she's not real, and it breaks his heart when he feels her tense.

"Just a dream," he hears her mumble, and then she says something about him never coming back.

"Ella, look at me." He orders even though it sounds more like a plea, and he reaches out to grasp her and turns her so she's facing him, but her eyes as still squeezed shut. "It's me, I'm here." Thomas whispers as he cups her cheeks and he feels her shiver against him before her blue eyes flutter open and she looks at him, her eyes filled with tears of her own.

"T-Thomas," she stutters breathlessly, cupping one of her own hands against his cheek, her eyes wide in disbelief. Her memories are still scrambled and she knows what all of this means – more than he does, because he vanished before everyone in the Enchanted Forest was altered of the curse and the Evil Queen's plans – but that's the furthest thing from her mind as she stares at him. It's really him. It's her Thomas.

"_What have you done to my Thomas?"_

She stares at him, and the smile tugs at his lips as the tears stream down her cheeks. "It really is you," she mumbles, her voice catching at the end. "You're back."

"I'm back," he nods as he wipes away her tears, though he's not a 100% sure where he's back from. The last thing he remembers is the well and the darkness that followed but he pushes that from his mind because it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because he's back and he loves her, and their love is all that matters.

Ella laughs before she presses herself up against his chest, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips as she melts into him, years of longing and separation pouring into that one kiss as his arms slip around her waist and he deepens the kiss. But it wasn't enough.

A moan erupts from deep in her throat when he pulls away from her, grinning at her before he pulls her back to him and lifts her off the ground, spinning slightly before he returns his lips to hers and goes about alternating between long and short kisses.

The moment drags on and is only interrupted when an indignant wail fills the air.

Both pull apart and turn towards the baby, gasps falling from their lips as understanding dawns on them.

Their memories as Ashley and Sean have dulled, but they're still there, and they know.

They know she's their daughter, their Alexandra.

"Alexandra," Thomas breathes out, rushing to his daughter's side in three strides before he lifts her up into his arms and holds her for the first time as his true self, for the first time as Thomas. "My little princess," he murmurs as he tucks her against his chest and kisses the top of her head, thankful tears filling his eyes. Whatever's happened, it brought him back to his wife and daughter, and that's all he could have asked for.

Ella covers her hand with her mouth, quieting her sobs before she joins her family.

She runs her hand along her daughter's head and shakes her head, "I was so afraid." Her voice is soft as she voices the thoughts that filled her mind before the curse hit, "I was so afraid that you wouldn't be here, that you would miss everything and Alexandra wouldn't…"

"Shh," Thomas whispers as he cups her cheeks once more, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips, their daughter tucked safely between them. "You never have to worry – I'll never leave you or our daughter again. I _promise _you, Ella."

Ella nods, knowing he's serious and knowing he never would have left them originally if he'd had a choice, but a shrill sound fills the air before she can promise him that she understands and her eyes widen in surprise.

She rushes over to the stove and turns it off, moving the frying pan from the hot burner, frowning as she looks down at the burnt pancakes.

"I'm not eating those," Thomas announces as he stares at their daughter, marvelling at how much she looks like Ella while his wife moves to deal with the fire alarm.

Ella raises an eyebrow when the shrill sounds cease and remembers her time as Ashley, and smugly says: "yes you are. They're half yours. We _are _married, after all."

He looks up at her, gives her a watery smile, and she returns it before they both chuckle.

Levity returns, interrupting the tears and the heartfelt hellos, and they enjoy the moment.

They know they'll have to venture out eventually and find out what has happened – find out where they really are, where all of their friends and allies are, as well as find Thomas' father if he doesn't find them first – but that can wait a little longer.

They'll let their friends enjoy their reunions as well, and they'll relish in their time together.

After all, it's their first time together as a family.

As Thomas, Ella, and Alexandra.

**-x-**

She waits several seconds and then opens her eyes.

She frowns. The purple cloud is gone – whatever the hell that had been – but nothing erases the feeling of dread that settles in the pit of her stomach. Honestly, there's a small part of her that thinks that this was all a dream that was brought on by Henry's insistence that the curse was real, but she knows in her heart that it wasn't a dream. Or a nightmare.

It was real.

The curse was real.

And that means everything else Henry said was real.

But Emma's not sure she's ready to process that yet.

Saving Henry's been the only thing on her mind for the past 12 hours and between having conversations with Rumpelstiltskin and the Evil Queen, not to mention slaying a _dragon_, she hasn't had the chance to fully process what all of this means.

"What _was _that?"

It's her son that asks the question – even though when she asked the very same question five minutes ago, it had been him to respond with the response: _something bad _– but she wants to know the same thing. She's in way over her head and she's terrified because she knows that there's no way that the purple cloud that engulfed the entire town was a good thing. She agrees with her son on that front.

But she also hears curiosity and excitement in his tone, mixed in with the slight tremble of fear. Henry's believed in the curse since the very beginning and to him this is just another mission, another part of 'Operation: Cobra.' To Emma it's so much more than that now. It's dangerous now. Before it was just her humouring her son for the sake of their relationship, but now it's real and it's dangerous and she nearly lost Henry.

"Magic," she hears someone respond in an awed voice that she's _fairly _certain belongs to Mother Superior – or whoever the hell she's supposed to really be – but she can barely focus on the words being said.

Her mind's focussed on one thing: Henry.

Because that's all she can handle right now.

She has to make sure Henry's safe.

He's her son and that's her job.

She has to protect him.

"_Who will protect Henry if you won't?"_

Mary Margaret's – Snow White's – words echo in her mind and fill her with a sense of direction and purpose.

She tells Henry to stay put, to wait for her and _not _do anything remotely reckless while she's gone, and then she leaves the room to find something that he can wear. Her mind's solely focussed on her task and getting her son out of the hospital, to find somewhere safe while they try to figure out what's happening, and she ignores the people gawking at her, asking her what's going on. But she doesn't answer them.

She doesn't answer them because she can't.

She's just as confused as they are. If not more so.

She doesn't get the chance to delve further into her thoughts because she finds a small pair of scrubs. Emma doesn't know who they belong to but they're small and they'll do until she gets Henry out of here and can find him some real clothes, and she's sure whoever owns them won't miss them. They've probably remembered that they're a genie, or a sea witch, or some other sort of fairy tale creature that shouldn't exist in her life but does.

It takes her no more than a few seconds to run back to Henry's room and, as he gets changed, she listens as he talks aimlessly about her breaking the curse. Henry talks about how much easier 'Operation: Cobra' will be since people won't be fighting him every step of the way because she believes and everyone else remembers who they are, and then he frowns and admits that things will be difficult if the Blue Fairy was right when she said magic has come to Storybrooke.

Emma assumes that Mother Superior is the Blue Fairy.

The Blue Fairy from Pinocchio.

That thought seems to penetrate her mind and then her eyes widen, her throat going dry.

Pinocchio.

August.

"_What's happening to you?"_

Emma remembers the terrifying sight that graced her eyes when she walked into his room. Nearly his entire body was wood and it had terrified her, momentarily removing thoughts of her son as she focussed on him. August. Pinocchio. Someone who, just like Henry, told her that the curse was real. Someone who, just like Henry, she was at risk of losing forever because she hadn't been able to see the truth.

"_You can see it now. You believe."_

She hears the relief in his voice as she plays the memory back in her head, numb to her son's rambling as her stomach drops. All August had wanted was for her to take a leap of faith, to _believe. _To believe in him, to believe in Henry, to believe in the curse and in herself.

"_Yeah. I do, but how do I stop this?_

Because she _has _to stop it, she has to find some way to save him. August couldn't die because of _her_, because of her inability to take a leap of faith and accept what was staring her in the face for months. She was the saviour. But what good was being the saviour when she couldn't save the people who mattered to _her_?

"_Break the curse."_

"_I'll do it, I promise, but I've got to save Henry first…"_

Emma holds up a finger to pause Henry's rant before he could move onto another topic, and motions for him to follow her as she heads out into the corridor to talk to the Blue Fairy. She mentions August and, upon seeing the woman's confusion she corrects herself and says Pinocchio, and she watches as the woman's features tighten.

"Geppetto still sent him through," she mutters, and Emma hears the disappointment in her voice.

"He did what any father would do," Emma corrects, vaguely remembering the story that August told her a couple of days ago in the woods when he told her the truth, and then she continues. She tells the Blue Fairy that he turned back into wood hours before she broke the curse, asks if there's anything she can do to bring him back since magic's apparently returned.

"I don't have my wand," the Blue Fairy frowns, shaking her head.

"So there's nothing you can do?" Emma whispers fearfully.

She hears Henry gasp from his position beside her, and her heart aches more.

The Blue Fairy drops her head and explains that she'll do all she can for Pinocchio once she gathers the other fairies and locates her wand – and Emma remembers the sword and tells her to check Mr. Gold's shop – but that's not good enough for her. She promised August she would save him too, and she has to keep that promise. She didn't believe him and it's her fault that he turned back into a puppet. If she had believed a little bit sooner, maybe things wouldn't have progressed this far.

And saving August provides her with a distraction.

If she focuses on this then she doesn't have to focus on the other thing.

Saving August saves her from the paralyzing thought that she's been suppressing for 12 hours.

Mary Margaret and David – people she's known for months – are really Snow White and Prince Charming.

Her _parents_.

The people she's been searching for her entire life.

Emma thanks the fairy anyway and links her hand with Henry's as they head out of the hospital, and when Henry asks if Pinocchio will be okay, she nods and promises him that they'll find some way to bring him back because _good can't lose_.

Henry smiles and nods, claiming that he's got his book and there has to be something in there, and pride fills Emma. Pride in the fact that her son managed to figure all of this out when no one else could see that something was wrong, and she opens her mouth to voice those thoughts aloud, to apologize for doubting him all these months, but she collides with someone before the words leave her mouth.

She blinks in surprise when she sees who it is.

Kathryn Nolan.

But her name isn't Kathryn, is it?

But, whoever she is, it's obvious that she's in a hurry. She's changed out of her hospital gown but her some of her clothes are inside out and twisted around her body, but it's her eyes that Emma notices. They're frantic with just a hint of longing, desperation, and hope glittering in them.

"Hey, Kathryn," she notices the woman's wince at the name but she has to call her _something_, "are you okay?"

"Frederick," is all 'Kathryn' mumbles in response, "I have to find Frederick."

Emma has no idea who Frederick is, and she's not really sure 'Kathryn' is really talking to her, but Henry answers. He understands – of course he does – and he tells her where she can find Frederick.

"He's at the elementary school – his name here was Jim Shields. He's the gym teacher."

'Kathryn' blinks for a moment before she grins down at Henry, whispers thank you, and runs off.

Emma stands there for a moment, blinking and not comprehending what just happened, before she and Henry start walking once more. Silence drags on for several seconds before she asks the question she wants to ask, "so who's Kathryn supposed to be?"

She bets the woman is a princess.

Maybe she's supposed to be Sleeping Beauty?

"She's Princess Abigail," so she was right about her being a princess, "she's the daughter of King Midas. And Frederick is her true love." Henry continues as they walk along, "the two of them were supposed to be married but he was turned to gold when he saved her father."

Emma frowns. "But he's not gold anymore?"

"Nope. She spent years trying everything, trying to bring him back but nothing worked so her father arranged another marriage for her because of the succession of the kingdom or something like that," Henry says matter-of-factly, as if their current topic of conversation is _normal_, "but she didn't want to marry Prince James. Just like he didn't want to marry her, so he helped reunite her with Frederick."

"How?" She blurts out.

They're outside now, heading to her car, the one that's been in the parking lot all night.

Henry scrunches up his face as he opens the passenger side door, trying to recall the rest of the story without taking out the book. "There was a lake," he shrugs as he slams the door shut once he's inside. "It was magic or something. The water could restore something that was lost so Prince James…"

Emma tunes him out once again and pauses, hope fluttering in her chest. _Could it be?_ She swallows hard and reminds herself not to get her hopes up, but her heart tells her that's not impossible. After all, hours ago she fought a dragon that was locked up in the basement of a building for 28 years, only to slay said dragon with her _father's _sword. If a dragon could be brought over to this world, then maybe the lake existed here as well.

The story _did _sound like the one August told her that day by the wishing well.

"_They say that the water from the well is fed by an underground lake," _August's voice resounds in her head, _"and that lake has magical properties…"_

Emma inhales, her breath sounding more like a gasp.

"… _This legend, it says if you drink the water from this well, something lost will be returned to you."_

Emma shrugs the memory off and starts her car, her tires screeching against the pavement as she zooms out of the parking lot, and she resists the urge to growl in annoyance when she sees numerous people standing in the street. They all looked lost and confused, and their fear is obvious as they speculate what the purple cloud was and why they haven't been returned to their home. Back to the Enchanted Forest.

"Where are we going?" Henry pipes up, the tremble of fear back in his voice as he stares at the people he's known his whole life.

"I have an idea," Emma admits as she takes a turn, slamming on the breaks when she sees _them_. Mary Margaret and David – her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming – are in her line of sight and a strange sense of longing ebbs away at her. But now's not the time for the awkward family reunion. She's nowhere near ready to face them yet because she still hasn't adjusted to the fact that her parents weren't selfish assholes that abandoned her on the side of the road, and she has to save August.

Still, she half expects her son to protest when she starts driving again, because she knows that he was staring at them too, but he just sits back and asks her what the plan is. Emma smiles and is once again thankful for the distraction and tells him about the well. She tells him about the legend August told her and how she thinks it might save him now.

"It might work," Henry announces once he's thought it over, a grin returning to his face now that there's a chance they'll be able to save the man who's currently a chunk of wood at Granny's. His fear has faded and has been replaced by hope.

Her only response is a tight smile and a curt nod.

Because this _has _to work. It just has to.

Her grip tightens on the steering wheel and she refuses to let herself think that this plan _won't _work because she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle that. August annoys the hell out of her half the time and she's not sure if it's because he's annoying like an older brother, or if her roommate was right when she claimed she was suffering from a classic case of playground love fever but what she _does _know is that she spoke the truth when she said she needs him.

She needs him even if she's not sure _why_.

The well comes into view before she explores that line of thought and she's out of the car before it comes to a full stop, not bothering to slam her door before she rushes to the well, pulling the bucket up as fast as she can. Henry's at her side, pressed firmly against the well, peering over the edge with anticipation.

"Henry, stand back," she cautions as she reaches out to grab the bucket before placing it on the ledge of the well. She breathes in and out, copies the action for a second time, and then cups her hands as she reaches into the bucket. Her eyes squeeze shut and, for the first time in a long time, she makes a wish as she slurps the water from her hands.

_Please work. Please work. Please work._

She opens her eyes again and foolishly realizes that she has no way of _knowing _if it's worked.

August is still at Granny's.

"Maybe we should take some with us, just in case." Henry murmurs with his eyes squinted together in thought, nodding to himself in approval, clearly proud of his idea.

Emma chokes out a laugh and swears she could kiss him, simultaneously angry for not thinking of that herself and thankful that he's there. "Do you have something we could hold the water in?" She asks, watching as her son pauses and thinks for a moment before nodding.

He shrugs his book bag off his shoulders and searches through it. "The Evil Queen always makes me bring it to school," he mumbles before he produces a water bottle from the bag, holding it out to her.

She accepts it and pours the water out of it before she fills it up with the water from the well. She fills it all the way to the top and then snaps the lid on it and then winks at Henry. "Come on, Kid." Her tone is light for the first time in days, if not weeks.

Henry hesitates by the well, watching her, and then he nods. "Okay… _Mom_."

Emma pauses in her strides, shocked. It's the first time he's called her that. She's always known that he's never thought of Regina as his mother – or at least, he hasn't since he realized the whole town was cursed and the woman who adopted him was the Evil Queen – but that's the first time he's called _her _his mom. And it warms her heart.

Henry's grin is shy when he continues. "I figured you were ready for your codename now," he shrugs.

"_Pumpkin. My codename. I was thinking in honour of Cinderella: Pumpkin."_

_Henry shook his head._

"_You got a better one in mind?"_

"_Yep."_

"_Well?"_

"_I'm not sure you're ready yet."_

Emma laughs and her voice is choked with tears, just like it was at the hospital when he told her that he loved her too, and she reaches out to ruffle his hair. "Come on, let's turn August back into a real boy."

Her son laughs and takes off towards the car and she feels like everything will be all right. She has no idea how she's going to adjust to having parents, let alone parents that are her own age, and she has no idea what to do about Regina and Rumpelstiltskin and the fact they're still in Storybrooke, but in that moment she has the most important a person can have – hope. She has hope that everything will work out.

They hop back into the car and race back to town, both noticing that the streets have nearly emptied now, but they don't stop until they reach Granny's. Just like at the well, Emma jumps out of the car first and doesn't bother shutting her door, but she does wait and makes sure that Henry's beside her. She's not ready to let him out of her sight. Hours ago she thought she would lose him forever and even now she knows it isn't over – Regina will try and take him back. But those are problems for another day.

Maybe, just maybe, if she takes this all one day at a time she'll be able to cope with all of this.

But Henry's oblivious to those thoughts and races past her, running into the Bed and Breakfast, calling out to her and telling her to hurry up.

Emma listens – because how much easier would everything have been if she had listened to him from the start? – and breaks into a run as she follows him to August's room. She closed the door when she had left hours ago, heartbroken and filled with determination, and the door was still shut.

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

She braces herself and reaches forward to turn the doorknob, waiting breathlessly as the door swings open, and then prepares for the worst as she walks into the room. Immediately, a lump forms in her throat.

He's still made of wood.

Henry follows her into the room and moves to stand at the foot of the bed, sadness filling his gaze as he stares at August, and Emma understands. It wasn't just _her _that August made an impression on. Henry had been fond of him, too.

It's only now she realizes that Henry probably knew who August really was.

August probably told Henry, just like he tried to tell her.

"Maybe if you pour it on him…" Henry whispers softly, his voice low and lacking the happiness from before, and it's obvious he's still trying to hold onto his hope. He wants to believe that good can't lose and so does she.

But his words confuse her. "What?" She blinks, her eyes never leaving August's face.

Life suddenly bursts from Henry as his eyes bore in her, his speech suddenly as animated as it's always been when talking about 'Operation: Cobra.' "When Prince James got the water for Princess Abigail she poured it over Frederick and the gold faded away and he was _real _again. Maybe it'll work for August too!"

Emma opens her mouth to say that it just might be too late for August. Maybe she took too long saving him. But she catches her son's gaze and she knows that she has to try. Besides, Henry has been right about everything else. Maybe… just maybe…

"Alright," Emma nods as she unscrews the cap on the water bottle and walks closer to August, swallowing before she pours the water on his head.

Nothing happens at first and she stops pouring the water but, just before she voices that it's too late, the air around August seems to ripple and it's like the water from the well washes the wood from his skin. As if it was nothing more than paint.

Hope flutters.

August is incredibly pale but he's no longer wood, and then she hears something.

A moan.

It's soft, barely audible, but the room is dead silent so she hears it.

August's chest then starts to rise and fall, his face scrunches up in pain, and then his eyes slowly open and the blue orbs lock onto her green.

"Emma?" His voice is low and hoarse but, aside from hearing Henry's voice back at the hospital, it's the best thing she's heard all day

Hope _soars_.

"It _worked_," Henry exclaims, his happiness apparent.

Emma remains rooted on the spot but immediately springs forward when August tries to sit up, rushing to help steady him, "Whoa – take it easy." She orders when she notices how stiff he is, not that she blames him, and watches as he tries to regain control of his body.

August blinks, seemingly not comprehending what's happened, "I'm…"

"If you even think about saying _"I'm a real boy" _then I will seriously kick your ass." Emma scowls, fighting a smile.

Henry laughs and scurries around to the other side of the bed, jumping onto it and hugging August, "she did it. Emma broke the curse. I got her to believe like I said I would."

August chuckles. "Never doubted you for a second, bud – though I didn't think I'd be around to see it." His eyebrows furrowed together. "I thought I needed magic to…"

"Storybrooke _has _magic now," Henry interrupts, "right, Mom?" There's no response and he looks over at Emma, "_Emma_?"

"Henry," her voice is low and she's looking at him in horror, "don't tell me you ate that poisoned turnover so I would _believe_." Emma's not sure why that never crossed her mind because it sounds like something Henry would do – after all, he's the kid that went into a collapsing mine so he could find proof – and she knows that's exactly what he did.

Henry nods, not at all bothered by the stricken expression on her face. "Yep."

Emma balks and August laughs, but the moment is perfect.

"You two are going to be the death of me," Emma mutters, shaking her head. "Next time you can save yourselves."

"But _you're _the saviour," Henry points out.

Emma frowns at the title.

"Yeah," August seconds, "What he said, Princess."

She glares at him, not at all fond of the nickname, but he just grins.

If Emma broke the curse that means her parents are probably frantic, looking for her, just like his own father is probably looking for him. But August – Pinocchio, whoever he is – figures that can wait a few more minutes.

Or, at the very least, until he regains control of his legs.

Besides, he's like being there with them, with Henry and Emma.

**-x-**

She runs faster than she's ever run before.

Her feet pound against the pavement and her legs ache, but she doesn't stop, nor does she slow down.

Kathryn's memories are still there in her mind, though they're somewhat dulled now that she remembers who she is, and even though she hates the name Kathryn Nolan and all it represents, she allows that woman's memories to lead her to the elementary school.

Because she isn't Kathryn.

Kathryn Nolan is nothing like her.

Abigail internally cringes at the thoughts that fill her mind. James is the first face that pops in her mind and she remembers that she never wanted to marry him either, but she knows in this world they were married. They were David and Kathryn Nolan. The Evil Queen tore both of their happy endings from them and threw them together, making James unavailable when he met this world's counterpart of Snow White.

_Snow_.

Abigail remembers confronting the woman in public and slapping her – something that wentagainst every lesson her governess had taught her as a child – and she vows that she'll find them both later and apologize even if she has nothing to really apologize for. It wasn't her fault no more than it was theirs that they hadn't been able to fight the undeniable bond that connected them, even as Mary Margaret and David.

But that doesn't matter right now because she has to find _Frederick._

She remembers the details that Snow and James had been able to uncover about the curse, few as they were, and she remembers the part about them being locked in a prison of time. Countless people had pondered over that, wondering what it could mean, but now she understands. She understands a lot now.

She's spent the past 28 years living in this world alone, living as Kathryn.

Because it's only been the past several months she's been the wife of David.

But now she feels every one of those 28 years as if they're weighing down on her shoulders, and she knows that the weight won't lessen until she finds her true love. Her _real _husband. Her Frederick.

Because he's been just as alone as her these past 28 years.

Because, even if he too was brought to this world as someone else's husband, there's been a void in his heart since the Evil Queen enacted her curse.

A void that no one could fill.

The void where _their _love used to be.

She suddenly feels a swell of hatred towards Regina. The Evil Queen. The woman who ripped her away from her Frederick and ripped everyone away from the ones they love most, and then had the nerve to befriend her in this world. Abigail feels sick when those memories surface.

Their friendship was nothing more than a lie.

Just like every moment she's lived for nearly three decades.

Their _friendship_ had merely been a way for Regina to keep an eye on James, ensuring that he stayed the forever-faithful husband of Kathryn instead of reuniting with his beloved Snow White.

All thoughts fade from her mind, though, as her intended destination comes into view and she comes to a dead stop. Her eyes widen as she stares at the building and her breathing is ragged, leaving her dry lips in pants. Her Frederick is suddenly so close and she's afraid to move any closer, afraid that this'll end up being a cruel dream and she'll suddenly be locked in that basement again.

But she's a princess.

Ever since she was a small girl, her father's told her that there'll be times when she feels like the smallest and weakest person in the world, but she can't let it show. She's a princess and she guards the hopes of all her people and it's her duty to appear sure and brave even when she feels anything but.

So she inhales and ignores the nerves swelling within her and puts one foot in front of the other, and the next thing she knows she's in front of the school.

Numerous adults are hugging their children, reuniting with the loved ones they suddenly remember.

And then she sees him.

He's standing amongst a group of parents and their children, seemingly trying to calm them down and assure them everything is alright, and it brings a smile to her face. Standing there in a red hoodie and grey sweatpants he looks nothing like the knight he really is, but he's easily fallen back into the role regardless.

Tears swell up in her eyes. He's still _her _Frederick.

"Frederick!" She calls out, unable to wait any longer, but her voice is hoarse and filled with tears and she doubts that he can hear her but somehow he does. His eyes immediately dart up and he searches for her, hope stretching across his features, and then he finds her. And it's like one of those moments in those horrid, clichéd movies Kathryn Nolan had loved. The moment when the man and woman find each other, despite the odds.

His lips move and, though she can't hear him, she knows they're forming her name.

_Abigail_.

She moves towards him but barely takes two steps before he's standing in front of her.

"Abigail," he whispers as if her name is the most precious word in all the land, and coming from his lips, it is, and then she's enveloped in his strong arms. Frederick's hold is both firm and gentle as he lifts her off the ground and spins her around, making her feel the first moment of contentment and peace in over 28 years. _These _are the arms she belongs in.

She knows it.

Abigail relishes in the feeling and allows herself to feel loved.

Because she _is_ loved.

She squeezes him as tightly as possible as he holds her body off the ground, though he stops spinning, and she presses herself closer to his body and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Tears of joy sting her eyes but she won't let them fall. She doesn't want to move from this position any time soon. If ever.

He lowers her to her feet but he doesn't loosen his hold on her at all.

If anything, he holds her tighter.

His hand cradles the back of her head and she hears him let out a relieved breath before he presses his face into her hair, kissing the top of her head repeatedly, chanting her name after each kiss.

Abigail. Abigail. Abigail.

_His _Abigail.

She loathed her name as a child, thinking it far too ordinary and plain, especially for a princess.

But now, she's never loved it more.

His hold on her loosens then and Frederick pulls back far enough so he can stare into her eyes as he cups her cheeks, looking at her adoringly, wiping away the tears that manage to escape her eyes.

"Frederick –" her name leaves her lips as a sob but it's barely out of her mouth before he leans in to cover it with his own, swallowing whatever words she had been about to say. His lips feel familiar against her own and it feels right, something kisses never felt when she was Kathryn and used to kiss David, and she sinks into the kiss. It feels like coming home. And, in his arms, she _is _home.

She's waited nearly 30 years to feel this sensation again.

And if she'd had to, she knows that she would have waited longer.

Frederick stops the assault on her lips, but keeps his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezed shut as he speaks. "I was the one that found your car. You were missing and no one knew where you were," his voice breaks, "and, even though I didn't know I loved you, I was so worried." His eyes open and they're filled with tears, but he manages a soft smile, "never do that to me again, Abby. The thought that you were…"

He trails off but she knows what he was about to say. The thought of her being dead, gone forever, broke his heart. He couldn't bear the thought of life without her, even when he didn't know who she was to him, just as she hadn't been able to bear life without him during those long years he'd been trapped as a gold statue because of her father's curse.

"I love you," is the only response that falls from her lips and it has his smile widening into a real, honest smile.

"And I love you," he responds and he drops his head down and presses another soft kiss to her lips. "With every fibre of my being, with my every breath, I love _you _and I am yours." Frederick murmurs against her lips before sealing his vow with another kiss, and pure happiness swells within her. He'd said the same thing to her at their wedding, a mere week after James restored him to her.

"And I am yours," Abigail promises as she gazes up into his eyes.

And for that moment all the world is right.

**-x-**

He's wobbly on his legs, but it isn't because, not an hour ago, he was made of wood.

It's because of the nerves that are assaulting him.

Emma and Henry are still with. Emma claims it's because he turned to wood before her very eyes and she doesn't want him to be alone and, even though he knows it's a lie and the real reason is because she's afraid to face her parents, he doesn't call her on it. Truthfully, he's happy she's there.

She and Henry are his rock right now and, he knows, if it wasn't for them, he would've turned around several minutes ago.

He's terrified to see his father again – as Geppetto, not Marco. He's spent the past few days helping his father with repairs and it had been familiar and comforting, the most at home he's felt in a long time, but his father had been unaware of his identity. 28 years have passed since his father placed him in the wardrobe and he's not that little boy anymore, and he knows he's not the man his father wanted him to be.

That's why he's afraid.

Geppetto made him promise to take care of the saviour – to take care of Emma – in this world when the two of them came through the wardrobe but he hadn't. He gave into temptation and left her alone and he ended up on his own Pleasure Island, forgetting who he was and forgetting all about his promise until he got a reminder years later at 8:15.

Mere days ago, _Marco _told him that it wouldn't matter to him if he had a son.

Marco said he'd realized his mistake and tried to fix it and that would be enough for him.

But the hope that his father still feels the same way, even with his memories returned, seems like nothing more than a dream.

"Maybe I should have taken my car," Emma's voice rings out.

Her words are slightly teasing but he hears the concern there and he knows that she's regretting the decision to let him walk. But walking had been the only option for him. Walking took time – time he could use to prepare himself for his reunion with his father.

"August?" She questions, frowning when she notices how much he's shaking.

He smiles at the sound of the name rolling off her tongue. He hated the name August when it was first given to him in this world – back when he'd been at the home with Emma and no one believed him when he said his name was Pinocchio – but he doesn't mind it when Emma says it. She tried calling him Pinocchio as they left Granny's, but she'd immediately scrunched up her nose and claimed that it was weird, saying he'd always be _August _to her.

"Do I really look _that _bad?" He asks, his tone mocking, but his heart isn't in it and it shows. He knows how bad he must look. He's wobbly on his feet, he can feel his hands shaking, and it wouldn't surprise him if he was as white as a sheet.

"I feel like I'm watching Bambi try to walk for the first time."

He shoots her a look and rolls his eyes when he hears Henry's snort of laughter.

"Yeah, well, if you keep it up I'll start teasing _you_, Princess." A grin tugs at the corner of his lips when he feels Emma's eyes bore into the side of his face, and he knows he'd be dead if looks could kill.

Evil Queens, Rumpelstiltskin, slaying dragons, and breaking curses?

Emma can handle _that_.

What she _can't _handle is being called a princess, even though she is one. Apparently she's never wanted to be a princess. Not even when she was a lonely orphan, wishing for a family and a happy ending, did she want to be a princess.

"Well if you keep wobbling like that, Pinocchio, then I'm turning you back into a puppet because right now you look like you _do _need strings to hold you up." Emma laughs at her joke, her laughter blending with Henry's, and he rolls his eyes again. He has a feeling it's going to be a _long _time before the wooden-boy jokes get old.

Still, her jokes provide him with a distraction, and it's most welcome.

Just like he knows accompanying him to his father's is a welcome distraction for her.

So he focuses on the numerous jokes that the blonde comes up with, and Henry even adds on when he thinks of one, and before he knows it, his legs aren't wobbling and his hands aren't shaking. His nerves fade away and he doesn't allow himself to think of anything else.

He doesn't think about all the ways his reunion with his father could go wrong, he doesn't think about the disappointment his father and Jiminy will surely feel when they learn he abandoned Emma, and he doesn't think about the fact that they're still in Storybrooke.

The latter is a problem for tomorrow – Henry said it'd be cool if they could get the old War Council assembled because they'd be perfect agents for the next stage of 'Operation: Cobra' – and there's nothing he can do about the former now. He did what he did and all he can wish for is that his father and the former cricket can both forgive him. He remembers Jiminy was against his father lying to Prince James and Snow, as Jiminy loathed all lying, and he's not sure he'll be able to withstand his disappointment any more than he'll be able to stand his father's.

"He's not going to care about all of that, you know." Henry announces suddenly, his eyes trained on the person he's decided to keep calling August as well, sure of his words even though August's told him why he aged and why he wasn't trapped in Storybrooke like the others. "He's your father, he loves you, and nothing else is going to matter now that you're together again."

"Well, either way, we're about to find out." Emma says before he can respond to her son's words, and he stops short when he realizes what she's talking about. They're in front of his father's house, and his father is standing in the garage, with Jiminy.

Henry tilts his head to the side when he notices his therapist talking to Geppetto, "is it weird seeing Jiminy _not _as a cricket?"

"Seriously," Emma drawls, her tone dry, "that's the only question you've got?"

Henry shrugs.

Silence engulfs the three of them as they watch the two friends talk in the garage, though there seems to be tension between them, but no one dares to interrupt it or comment on it.

But Jiminy – seemingly just as intuitive as he'd been as Archie – feels the three pairs of eyes gawking at them and he looks up. His eyes immediately lock onto the trio and they can actually _see _realization dawn on his face as he realizes who they are. Or at least, he recognizes Emma and Henry, and _guesses _who the third is.

He reaches out and nudges Geppetto, who's cleaning his glasses, and the old craftsman hastily puts his glasses back on and follows his friend's gaze. He's on his feet within seconds and he stares, his eyes hopping from Emma to Henry, and then they focus on Pinocchio.

Emma watches the scene play out, notices that August's eyes have locked onto his father's as well, and clears her throat loudly before she pushes him forward. The gentle push is all he needed apparently, because he keeps walking until he's in front of Geppetto.

"Pinocchio," Geppetto whispers as if it's a question, but he knows the man before him is his boy and he immediately reaches out and pulls his son into his arms. "My boy," he murmurs, "_my _boy." Relief, happiness, and sadness lace his tone as he cradles his son to his body as if he were still a small boy of 7.

"Hello, Father."

It's unbelievable how wonderful it feels to call him that aloud and he sinks into the embrace. The welcome he's received is more than he could have hoped for, yet he still feels as if he has to confess to his sins.

His father leans back from him and looks at him so sadly, but there's pride there as well.

"Let me look at you," he pleads as he takes in the sight of his son, studying all of his features and matching them to the child-like ones he remembers so vividly. Red locks have deepened to brown but the curve of his nose, the smile, and the eyes are the same. Blue orbs that are like hooks for the soul. So full of life and curiosity, and currently, brimming with tears of untold joy.

"You're not a boy anymore, Pinocchio." Geppetto voices, and it's the reason for his sadness.

He didn't get the chance to see his son grow up into the man before him.

But his son is before him, safe and sound, and that's enough for him as he pulls his son back in his arms.

But Pinocchio breaks the silence immediately, the pride he saw on his father's face ebbing away at him.

"Father," he breathes out, "I'm _sorry_."

Geppetto jerks back and looks at his son in surprise, a shocked expression that's mirrored on the faces of all those present. "Sorry?" Geppetto repeats as if he's never heard anything so ridiculous in his life, "for what, my boy?"

"I'm not the man you wanted to be at all," he mumbles, "I broke my promise to you and to Emma."

Emma's head jerks up, surprised to hear her name.

But Geppetto just stares at his son for a long moment, and his expression is unreadable, but he then shakes his head.

"There's nothing to forgive," Geppetto vows as he places his hands on the side of his son's face, looking him in the eyes. "You were but a child yourself, and the task I gave you was far too great."

"But I promised –"

"Yes, you made a promise to _me_, one that I had no right to ask of you."

His son looks as if he wants to protest more but he doesn't and, when he says that he's _proud _of the man he's become, Pinocchio allows himself to sink into another hug.

"And, it is I who will deal with the fallout, because it was my decision and therefore _my _burden to bear." Geppetto voices. His son is before him, safe and whole, and that's enough for him. It's all he wanted – the reason he struck the deal with the Blue Fairy – and he's more than prepared to deal with the consequences of betraying two of his dearest friends.

"What fallout?" Emma asks.

She and Henry have moved inside the garage as well, her back against a work bench with her arms crossed and her son beside her, sitting on the table, and a frown mars her features.

Geppetto backs away from his son, though he's still in reach, and turns to face her. "The wardrobe, it took two, but I bartered for the spot that should have belonged to your father and when things changed, the spot that should have gone to Snow White, and I'm afraid they'll see it as a betrayal."

Jiminy nods, tapping his umbrella against the side of his foot.

Emma eyes Geppetto.

A part of her, the furious, hurt part, wants to tell him that he deserves it.

He selfishly made a decision to save his son that robbed _her _of the chance of growing up with her parents, safe and loved.

But Henry's legs brush up against the side of her leg as he swings them back and forth, and she can't hate Geppetto. She's hurt and angry, but it's not _his _fault. It's Regina's. She enacted the curse that forced him to make that decision and, if she's honest with herself, Emma knows she would have made the same one.

"Then we – then we don't tell them." She says finally.

Jiminy's eyes widen comically as he stares at her in horror. "Wha – wha – _what_?" He sputters, shaking his head quickly. "No, no, no, no! We must tell James and Snow the truth. Lies always have a way of breaching the surface and, no matter how honourable your intentions, it'll hurt them when they find out you hid this from them and –"

Emma doesn't back down. "And it'll hurt them now. And there's really no point because it's in the past and nothing can be done about it. All it'll do is put a wedge between them and Geppetto, and the Blue Fairy, and _you_. And we can't afford that. We're still in Storybrooke, Regina's sure as hell not gonna just give up, and Rumpelstiltskin is god knows where. We're going to need everyone we got, and that includes _you_."

Pinocchio purses his lips together, "she's right."

Jiminy scowls at him, "no she's not. Pinocchio, I told you the consequences of lying –"

"Fine. So we won't lie." Emma shrugs. "Pinocchio was carved from an enchanted tree similar to the one used to make the wardrobe and he was sent to this world ahead of the curse –that's what we'll tell them."

"But that's not the whole truth."

"And it's not a _lie _either."

Jiminy starts and stares at her, his jaw dropping.

But Geppetto laughs. "Spirited, just like your mother," he observes, "so I fear there's no changing your mind."

"You, sir, are correct." She nods as she pushes herself away from the work bench and motions for her son to follow her. "C'mon, kid, it's time to face the music." Her face twists into a grimace, still unsure of how she feels about the impending reunion. But she has to do it – she's avoided them as long as she can.

She gives August a smile. "Goodbye, _Pinocchio_." Her tone is mocking as she uses his real name.

He returns the smile and offers her a mock bow. "I'll see you tomorrow, _Princess_."

She scowls at him, but then she and Henry are gone from sight, and only three of them remain. Geppetto, Jiminy, and Pinocchio. It's just like it had been before they had learned of the curse, before the craftsman was asked to build the wardrobe, and it feels right. A fact that isn't lost on any of them.

"Let us go inside and I'll make tea," Geppetto grins, leading his son inside with Jiminy following behind quickly, "and you, my boy, can tell us all about the adventures you've had. There've been many, yes?"

**-x-**

Emma's wary as she approaches the door to the apartment. The apartment: the one she's been living in for months, the first place that's felt like home in even longer, and she knows it's because her roommate truly is her family. She's her mother.

Things have calmed down and she's had time to process what the curse being real means, and she's accepted it all. Seeing it and being forced to believe it is one thing, but _accepting _it is another, and she thinks she's ready to accept it. Because part of her has wanted the curse to be real since Henry first told her about it and that want only increased when Jefferson insisted passionately that she was the daughter of Snow White because _if what you're saying is true, then the woman in the other room is my mother, and I want to believe that more than anything._

And, even though she'd been lulling Jefferson into a false sense of security before she whacked him on the head with his damned telescope, those words had been true. She wanted to believe in the curse, but she hadn't know how to. It went against everything she'd ever believed and everything she'd ever known. And giving up those beliefs had scared her.

But everything she's felt since arriving in Storybrooke, Maine has pointed to the curse being real – she'd just ignored the signs because, like August has told her, she didn't want to see the truth because it scared her. Because asking her to be everyone's saviour was asking too much of her and it was something she'd never asked for, yet she easily fell into the role when it was time.

She freezes outside the door and Henry pauses at her side, looking up at her with his bright eyes and gentle smile, and she exhales. He's told her that he'll be by her side the entire time and that she's got nothing to worry about. He's been assuring her nonstop of her parents love since they left Geppetto's, reminding her that they were her parents and they already loved her, and that _they loved you so much that they sent you through the wardrobe so you'd have your best chance – even though it broke their hearts to let you go._

Henry nods and she manages a slight smile as she reaches for the doorknob.

But she picks up on the voices coming from the apartment, and she freezes. And listens.

"It's been hours, James!"

"Snow –"

"And she still hasn't turned up! Anything could've happened and she could be anywhere – maybe she hasn't turned up because she _can't_."

"Snow –"

"That… that _witch _could've got her," venoms fills her voice, "and I swear to _god _if she's hurt her I'll –"

"Snow," his voice interrupts again, more forcefully this time, but then his voice softens and Emma struggles to hear what he's saying. "We checked the square and we've checked the hospital, there's nothing else we can do. And you said so yourself, Emma'll come back to the apartment when she's ready. We just have to trust that she'll find us."

"_Find us."_

Emma gasps upon hearing those two words. She remembers picking up Henry's book and the images that had filled her mind, and suddenly the image of _him _putting her in the wardrobe and kissing her small head, tears streaming down his face as he begs her to find them is all she can see.

And then the door swings open and she sees them.

Mary Margaret and David.

Snow White and Prince James.

She starts and draws her hand back, having not even realised she'd turned the handle and opened the door, but her eyes don't leave them.

Snow's sitting down on the sofa with James crouched down at her side, running his fingers through her hair to comfort her, and Emma notices that the scene's a sweet symmetry to the moment she found them in the animal shelter when Mary Margaret had been comforting David. Only their roles are reversed.

And, just like they had that day, their eyes lock onto her and tears fill them.

But these tears are tears of joy mingled in with a little regret.

But Emma's frozen and can't seem to move, but Henry pulls her forward until she's in the apartment.

Snow shrugs off her husband's arm and jumps to her feet, barely stopping herself from running across the room and engulfing her daughter in an embrace only to never let her go again, but she still possesses Mary Margaret's memories and she knows that her daughter has strong walls built around herself.

She's vaguely aware of James climbing to his feet behind her and she feels his hand on the small of her back but she doesn't acknowledge it. She focuses on her daughter.

And Emma focuses on her parents.

And it's like she's truly seeing them for the first time, seeing bits of herself in each of them.

Emma finally sees the resemblance she's been ignoring. Her eyes as the same shape as her father's but, instead of his crystal blue orbs, her own are more green like her mother's. She has her father's forehead. Her mother's round cheeks. Blonde hair like James but she knows the wild curls are from Snow.

And she wonders how she never knew they were her parents.

But deep down she _had_.

She just ignored it because she hadn't thought it could possibly be true, but it was.

Silence engulfs the room, and the only sound heard is the soft click of the door as Henry shuts it, but no one moves.

Emma realizes that they're waiting for _her_. They're letting her make the first move.

Her parents must have discussed this before she showed up and decided to let her come to them.

It's why they returned to the apartment instead of tearing apart Storybrooke when she wasn't in the square or at the hospital.

But she sees the truth in the gazes. James and Snow _want _to rush to her side and engulf her in their arms. They're struggling to be patient for _her _sake because they're aware of how closed off and hard this world's forced her to become, and she thinks they might even be a little scared. Relief floods her veins when she notes that they seem just as uncertain as she is. And then she becomes annoyed when she sees that they're looking at her like she's an abused animal that's been backed into a corner.

But her eyes lock onto Snow's and she offers the woman a slight smile. She doesn't know James, not even as David, but she knows Snow. She's been living with Mary Margaret for months and she sees parts of that persona still within Snow – the only real difference is the determination and fight she now sees in those green eyes. But she's still the same person. She's still the same kind, caring person who took in a complete stranger because even a curse hadn't been able to fully sever the love connecting mother and daughter.

"So," she says finally and she hears her parents inhale sharply upon hearing her speak, "I guess I really _do _kinda have your chin."

Snow lets out a watery laugh as she remembers the talk they had when Emma confessed to Mary Margaret that Henry believed that they were mother and daughter. And she knows that those words are the okay she and James were waiting for, so she wastes no time and she rushes across the apartment and holds her daughter in her arms for the first since she was a baby.

"Emma," she breathes out as she throws her arms around her daughter and cradles the back of her head, "_My _Emma." Love fills every word and Emma's surprised by the instant and profound love and acceptance that fills her heart. Suddenly nothing else matters because she's where she belongs, with her family, safe and sound in the arms of her mother.

But she remembers the last talk she had with Mary Margaret and the regret she'd been feeling ever since increases and she knows that she has to apologize. The truths August told her in the woods where they'd come through the wardrobe had scared her but she shouldn't have tried to run. You don't abandon family.

"I'm sorry I just left and –"

Her mother pulls back and looks at her so proudly that Emma feels her eyes widen.

"No, sweetheart," her mother's voice is soft and the term of endearment seems natural and effortless as Snow brushes her blonde curls out of her face, "you have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you _didn't _run even though you were frightened. And that alone shows how strong you truly are because what was asked of you was a burden that no one person should have to bear. But I am so proud of you. _Fiercely _proud. And I love you. I always have."

Emma thinks her heart might burst from the love pouring from her mother. Growing up as an orphan in foster care, this is more than she could've ever wished for, and suddenly nothing else matters. Her mind screams at her, telling her that letting her walls down will only lead to hurt, but she ignores the voice and listens to her heart instead. She sees the truth in her mother's eyes – Snow will _never _hurt her.

Emma smiles, nodding slightly, and her eyes dart over to James.

He's watching them, content to allow their reunion, but she sees the same truth in his eyes.

James loves her and he'll never hurt her, either.

She wants to approach him and Snow seemingly understands this because she offers her daughter a final smile before she backs off, moving over to stand beside Henry, who eagerly hugs her around the waist and tells her _I **told **you he was your Prince Charming_, but James and Emma fail to notice.

"Emma," James murmurs, taking several strides towards her before he pauses.

He stops short and she knows he's remembering that she doesn't know him. She hadn't even known him as David.

But he's always felt like he knew her.

As David, he'd told himself it was because she helped saved his life, and later he'd told himself it was because of the yearning he felt to be close to Mary Margaret and everything dear to her, but now he knows the truth. Emma is his daughter. She's his baby girl. The one he'd held for all of five minutes before placing her into a wardrobe and sending her ahead of the curse.

Emma watches him and waits for him to close the distance between them, but he doesn't.

So she does.

She approaches him carefully as if _he's _the one that looks like a wounded animal that's been backed into a corner, but in three steps she's in front of him and he's smiling at her, tugging her into his arms. His arms are strong and they easily enfold around her, and his embrace too feels safe.

"You found us," he whispers in her ear, awed.

"_Find us."_

Emma swallows the emotion that forms a lump in her throat and nods into his shoulder, unsure of what to say because the moment doesn't need words and she's not sure what to say, especially since the confrontation she's worked out in her head won't do. For years, ever since she first tried to find her parents, she'd planned out what she wanted to say to the heartless bastards that had just thrown her away on the side of the road like a piece of trash. _Especially_ to the father she's always assumed abandoned her mother.

But everything she ever thought about him and her mother was wrong – not that any sane person in this world would've assumed that their parents sent her ahead of a curse instead of abandoning them – and she's suddenly not sure what to say.

A moment passes and then it dawns on her. She knows exactly what to say. She's never told Henry, but she's read the story of Snow White and Prince Charming every time she opened his book, and, even though it always ended with her throwing it back in the drawer and slamming it shut, she knows it by heart. Every word.

And that's why she knows the significance of her next words, and she knows James will as well.

"Did you ever doubt I would?" She asks softly, holding him close, and she feels her father shake with laughter.

Those words – his words – are the very words he said to her mother when he found her and, even though she doesn't know it, he said them to her again mere hours ago when he found her wandering in the street, just as lost and confused as every other resident of the hamlet that's spent the past 28 years under a curse.

James pulls back and looks into her eyes. "Not even for one moment," he assures and a charming grin etches into his face as he tries to commit every one of her features to his memory, and he sees that she's the perfect combination of him and his wife. She's _perfect _and he wouldn't change one hair on her head.

"What am _I _supposed to call you now?"

Henry's voice fills the room and Emma laughs.

She turns her head around to look at Henry, though she stays in her father's embrace because she's not sure she's ready to leave just yet, and she smiles at the sight of her son looking up at Snow with a curious expression.

It's obvious that knowing what to call his grandparents is vital to the small boy.

Snow squints at him in consideration, a smile tugging at her lips, and she tells him that he can call her and James whatever he wants.

Henry brightens at this because he too has gained an entire family in less than a day, and he announces that he'll call them Grams and Pops because they don't look old enough to be his _grandparents_, and then he says they should celebrate.

They should celebrate because they're a family and because they found each other.

Because family _always _find each other. Especially theirs.

James inhales sharply as he regards Henry – having just realized his relationship with the boy – but Snow takes it all in stride and nods. "I agree," she winks as she moves to the kitchen, lights the burner on the stove, and fills the kettle with water because she knows him and Emma'll want hot cocoa with cinnamon.

They all move to the kitchen and crowd around the counter as they wait for the kettle, and it just feels right. Henry's smile is wide and he relishes in the feeling of being with his _real _family and they all listen as he chatters on about this and that, telling them all about 'Operation: Cobra.'

And then a crafty grin crosses his face as he eyes his grandfather smugly, "so have you ever used a sword?"

It's the same question he asked months ago at the welcome home party for David.

James laughs and then reaches out to ruffle the boy's hair, and goes on to say yes.

Emma listens as her son asks her father millions of questions about quests and swords and dragons and "when do _I _get to use a sword? Because Mom has _and _she fought a dragon!" His voice is excited but Emma sees the way her parents eye her curiously and she regrets telling her son _that _particular detail when they were with August, but he continues talking before anyone can comment. And, for that, Emma's grateful.

He tells them that the Blue Fairy said that the purple cloud was magic coming to Storybrooke and they should be able to find a way to use that magic to return to the Enchanted Forest, which he isn't against at all, because he thinks it'll be cool to live in a castle.

Emma doesn't take her eyes off of him and soaks up everything he says, and she hangs on her father's every word when he responds and tells stories about the world she'd been born into, and she only looks up when Snow places a mug in front of her. Hot cocoa and cinnamon. And she thinks it's fitting when James laughs, and says "doesn't surprise me that you love that so much – it's all Snow craved when she was pregnant with you."

She offers a shy smile and Henry and James fall into conversation once more while Emma and Snow listen on in contentment, enjoying the feeling of being together. Emma knows that it'll be a rough road. Not just defeating the Evil Queen and Rumpelstiltskin, but also her own personal battle of lowering her walls and fully letting her parents in, but she thinks this is a good start. Especially for her because she's never believed in curses or that it was possible for parents to practically be the same as their children, and she's never believed in fairy tales.

But, as her parents laugh at something Henry says, a ghost of a smile lights up her face.

Because she thinks she believes in happy endings.

THE END

* the title and the lyrics at the beginning are from the song _Turning Page, _by Sleeping At Last.


End file.
